My Drowning Anchor - A Larry Stylinson Fanfic
by stylinsonwhore
Summary: Harry is in desperately love with Louis, but Louis doesn't even notice.
1. Chapter 1

**_{Prompt: Could you do one where Louis is crying though he's usually the strong one, and Harry tries to comfort him and be strong for him, but he isn't used to seeing Louis cry so he begins to get upset himself?}_**

**I honestly don't know what this is, I've never written a one-shot and short stories really aren't my forte, but I tried XD Let me know what you think and if you have any prompts, just tell me and I'll try my best!:)**

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Louis palmed his cheek with a sniff, aware of the younger boy's green eyes trained on him.

"Lou…" Harry began.  
"I'm fine," Louis cut him off firmly.  
Harry took a small step closer to Louis, looking into the other boy's watery eyes.  
"Let me see, please," pleaded Harry, taking Louis' hands in his: Louis refused to let go of the phone, and whatever had been on there had hurt him. Bad.  
Louis sank onto his bed, head in his hands, and began to cry. Almost instantly, Harry too was sitting on the bed, arms wrapped tight around his best friend, the love of his life.  
"She b-broke up with me…" Louis choked out finally. What? Harry must've misheard him; it was hard to hear him through his hands, so Harry regretfully had to ask again.  
"She did _what_?"  
"She _dumped me_, Harry, ended what we had…" He looked up at Harry, his long eyelashes spiky with tears.  
Of_ course.  
But why couldn't he see what they had?  
_"Two years, Haz… I love her so much… It fucking hurts,"  
_Not as much as being completely in love with your totally oblivious band mate. _  
"Why?" asked Harry. He hadn't exactly welcomed Eleanor Calder with open arms, and maybe it was just jealousy talking, but he always knew she couldn't be trusted.  
"S-she doesn't love me anymore," Louis spat. "What does that even mean? Am I not good enough? I mean, I know sometimes I'm immature sometimes, but I'm not that awful, am I? What's wrong with me, Haz?"  
Louis' blue eyes were staring right into the eyes of the curly-haired boy, showing vulnerability.  
Rage swelled up inside Harry. Who was Eleanor to make his best friend feel this shitty about himself? Louis, who was usually so strong, and carefree? She had broken him. But this wasn't the time for that, not now when Louis needed him.  
"Nothing's wrong with you, Lou, you're amazing." Harry cupped Louis' soft cheek. _Oh, how he wished he could just lean in and kiss the Doncaster boy and let him know how much he loved him.  
_"Not amazing enough," Louis muttered under his breath, hiccupping through tears.  
This wasn't Harry's Louis. _Heck_, this wasn't Louis at all. This was the scared, fragile, insecure Louis that he tried to hide under the humour, the jokes.  
Louis was looking for reassurance, and Harry needed to give it to him. But where would he start? The way Louis could lighten any situation with a witty joke, or how happy he made Harry feel when he looked at him? His angelic voice? The way he crinkled his eyes when he laughed? His sensitivity and happy-go-lucky personality? There were so many perfect things about Louis, and so many imperfect things, and Harry loved them all. Louis' lips trembled, waiting for an answer, his beautiful lips; the ones that Harry longed to lock with his own.  
Harry must've taken too long to string together a coherent reply, for Louis had picked up his hoodie and his phone, and run out of the house in tears.  
"Shit, Lou," Harry started, startled by the suddenness of it all.  
Harry was sure he heard Louis mumble, _Eleanor was right_, under his breath tearfully as he departed.  
Harry couldn't take it. Louis was delicate, and everyone in the band knew this. No-one wanted to see Louis unhappy, and this was how he was feeling, if not worse.  
He loved Louis, and he couldn't stand to see him hurt.  
And Louis was hurting, a lot.  
His face contorted, overwhelmed with great ugly sobs, and he fell to the floor, curling in a ball, and began to cry.  
He wanted Louis to be okay, _he _wanted to be okay… Louis was his anchor, and Louis was drowning, and Harry couldn't resurface without him. The floor in Louis' bedroom was cold, pressing against Harry's skin, reminding him of painful reality. He wasn't crying because of Eleanor and Louis anymore, he was crying for himself, tears of self-pity, anger, confusion.  
He needed Louis, and Louis was somewhere out of the house, hurting, aching, probably crying. He wouldn't come back for days: Louis had done this once before – when Harry first came out as gay, eight months ago, Louis had been hurt that Harry had lied to him, and left the apartment, and following his departure, Harry heard hide nor hair from him for three days. So he'd probably done the same; gone to stay with his mother, or Liam, and Harry would be alone for a while. He could call Niall… But why put his burden on someone else's shoulders?

So Harry walked unsteadily downstairs to the kitchen, eyes blurry with tears. Opening the cupboard, he took out two bottles of vodka.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay, so I was asked by _Mrs-Isaac-Lahey _if I could write more so you find out what happens when Louis goes home again, and I started to write it, but I wanted to write more before you found out, so you could read more from Louis' perspective, because I started to enjoy writing this, I started off hating the story, but I'll be honest, I think this chapter (so there are chapters now, what?!) is much better than the first one, the first chapter was kind of rushed. So anyway, I hope you enjoy it, thank you for reading, and feel free to leave a review!:)**

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Louis stuffed his hands into the large pockets of his hoodie, as the grey clouds seemed to expand, and the rain fell heavily.

It was getting dark; how long had he been walking? _Just keep going, far away_, his head had told him.  
He wished he'd thought to bring his earphones, some music would be great right now, but he hadn't been thinking when he'd stormed out, he just had to get _out._ Harry would be worried _sick_.  
Harry.  
Coming to a halt at a bench along a nature trail, head spinning, he brought out his phone, Eleanor's words ringing in his ears; not that she had said them, of course, but he could imagine her voice all too well. He had read her text so many times before Harry had come in, and he could recite the message from memory, from the words to the commas.  
_I don't believe you Lou. I know you, I think you're forgetting that. You like him, and I'm okay with that. Just wish you'd told me yourself. Hope it all works out. El xxxx  
_He needed to text Harry, But the text… It would still be on the screen when he unlocked it. He wasn't ready to deal with that._  
_Louis put his phone back in his jeans, unable to type in the passcode: his hands were shaking too much with worry for them to function as useful hands. He let his head loll backwards, not caring about the icy water splashing on his face.  
He didn't want to lie to Harry, but he had no _choice_; how was he meant to tell him?  
_Oh, my girlfriend broke up with me because she realized I was in love with you?_  
Wait, that was wrong. He _didn't _love Harry, did he? No, he did love him; he loved him as a brother and a best friend, nothing more.  
Lifting his head, he shook away the rain droplets, and suddenly a fond memory of his curly haired best friend sprang to mind.

"Left foot, blue," Niall said, twirling the spinner with a flourish.  
"Rightio. You're going have to move, Haz, I don't want your ass in my face," Louis giggled.  
"You love it," quipped Harry, with a playful wink he was almost certain the older boy couldn't see: he was facing the opposite direction, wiggling his bum at Louis.  
Louis turned a deep shade of pink at Harry's words and gesture, and Niall pretended not to notice; only wishing Liam and Zayn would hurry up and save him from the other two boisterous bandmates, who were entangled on the Twister mat they had found in Liam's old room. Niall put another couple of Pringles in his mouth – a clever bribe from Louis to get him to be the spinner, as Louis stretched his leg underneath the body of his best friend, shaking precariously.  
As the spinner came to a halt, Niall quickly swallowed his mouthful of crisps, blue eyes twinkling. "Right arm, red, Haz,"  
"Oh oh, here I come, Lou!" Harry laughed, moving himself to change places and settle in a comfortable position. Right on top of Louis.  
Louis tried hard to ignore the sudden shallowness of his breath, the fastened pace of his heart.  
Their eyes locked, Harry's green eyes boring into Louis' green ones, as if looking for something within his soul and the corners of Harry's lips twitched into a smile, as he noticed the cheeky look on Louis' face, unaware of the apprehensiveness that had flashed in the boy's eyes moments before.  
The silence was broken by the crunch of the Pringles now lodged in Niall's mouth, causing Harry to break into a wide mouthed grin.  
Louis' arms weakened, and he fell against the mat, unintentionally pulling the younger boy down with him.  
They collapsed in a giggling heap on the floor, Harry still on top of Louis.  
"Right, is it over now? I'm going to go call Li, you guys suck," Niall laughed, and left the room.  
Harry wrapped his arms around Louis as he fell beside him, breathing heavy with laughter.  
"Told you… I'd win," panted Louis.  
"Win? Fuck off Lou, you fell, and dragged me with you, sore loser," smiled Harry.  
"I only fell because you made me laugh, asshole,"  
"You love me really, Boobear," said Harry, in a charming tone that would make anyone's insides turn to mush.  
Louis put his arms around Harry, so they were hugging on the floor.  
"Love you, Louis," said Harry.  
"Love you, Haz,"  
Both boys lay in silence for a few seconds.  
"Louis?"  
"Hmm?"  
"I still won the game,"

Louis squirmed, his stomach twisting at the memory of Harry and what it felt like to be held by him, to hold Harry in his arms. He wanted to talk to him, let him know that he was okay, tell him that he loved him.  
Did he love Harry? He was sure of it. He didn't want to, but you didn't really get to choose who you fell in love with.  
It was more of a shock to Louis that he was in love with Harry; he wouldn't have called himself gay, but he'd always had doubts that maybe he was, on more than one occasion, he'd caught himself thinking about guys, usually Harry, and how it would feel to kiss them.  
Did he want to kiss Harry? Of course. It wasn't like they hadn't kissed before, they'd kissed several times, drunk and sober, but he wanted to kiss him and have it _mean _something, to know that Harry loved him too. Harry was gay; he could remember finding out about his best friend's sexuality all too well. But just because Harry wasn't into girls didn't mean he was desperate for a boyfriend. Boyfriend. Louis wanted to be Harry's boyfriend more than anything; he knew that for definite, his heart racing at the memories of Harry's touch, his deep voice, his green eyes, the way he could make Louis feel special, make him smile.

He had to see Harry. He had to talk to him. Taking a deep breath, Louis rose from the bench, and with a quick recce of his surroundings, he set off in the direction he had come, back to his apartment, to see his best friend and his love.


	3. Chapter 3 Part A

**A/N: This is ridiculously short and a bit of a (dramatic) filler, and I'm _so_ ****sorry****, but I tried an alternate route and it was way too angsty. Also, I'm not sure how many people are actually reading this, and as much as I am enjoying writing this, I didn't want to upload a whole novel that no-one read. **

**If you're still reading the story though, thank you so much!:)**

**I'll upload the next chapter soon, (once i've finished writing it), I'm still trying to come up with an upload schedule, so that I actually get some writing done. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this (extremely short, i'm sorry) chapter.**

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Harry felt like shit.

He lay on his bedroom floor, shivering, still in his jogging bottoms and Hollister t-shirt, forehead beaded with sweat.  
He wasn't going to lie, he didn't expect it to feel like this. He wasn't trying to kill himself, of course, he just wanted to pass out for a couple of hours, forget what was happening, and this seemed like the best way to do it. His throat ached, burned raw with the mass consumption of alcohol, and to top it all off, Harry couldn't breathe. He watched his chest heave with half-lidded eyes, wondering why everything was moving so slowly. His head was aching, a sharp pain in the back of his head, as his eyes fluttered shut.  
Maybe the darkness would come now, and he'd be unconscious, away from this torment.  
What if he was going to die? His eyes snapped open again, with immense pain. He could imagine Louis finding his body, and the look on his face, and Harry didn't want that.  
He was sure that downing two bottles of vodka would do some internal damage, but he had hoped he wouldn't be awake to see it. He moved his fingers slowly, his arm numb. He willed himself to move, to reach for his phone and call for help. He needed it.  
And then with one more painstaking breath, it all went black.


	4. Chapter 3 Part B

**A/N: Okay, I honestly don't even know any more xD This is really short (in my opinion), but I thought it would be better to give you something rather than nothing at all. Just to clarify, this (hopefully, haha) will be the first and last hospital scene throughout the story, I don't want this to become a hospital fic. I'm not sure if I should leave it as it is, albeit a few amendments later on, or make this a chaptered fic. Because I'm trying not to make it one of those unrequited love stories, because I know how annoying and beating-around-the-bush-y they can get.  
So I'll need your feedback more than ever this time, so I know if you want me to continue writing this and see where it goes, or if I should leave it at this chapter, with the knowledge that Harry leaves the hospital.  
(P.S. If you're wondering what the hell the awkward hug bit thing is, I can't write fluff, don't shoot me.) Okay, this note is rather long, love you guys, bye!:)**

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"We believe it to be a case of mild acute alcohol poisoning," he said slowly, pushing the hair from his forehead with the back of his gloved hand, head glistening with sweat.

"We've stabilised him; he fell into respiratory depression, but we've administered 75mg of nikethamide to aid his breathing, and 30mg of thiamine to prevent him from having another seizure,"  
Seeing the look on Louis' face, he added, "After his liver collapsed, his body went into shock, and he had a seizure, just about an hour ago. But as I said, he's quite stable now, but his body is not strong in the least. You're _extremely_ lucky you found him when you did, or he would not have survived. Of course, there'll have to be further enquiries into the cause of this dangerous action, but at the moment, Mr Styles just needs to rest, and he'll be perfectly fine in a day or two,"  
Louis stared at the doctor, his breath catching in his throat. His head was reeling and his eyes were probably red, he could feel his eyelashes spiky with tears, moisture touching his cheeks with every blink.  
"C-can I see him?" he choked out, with a small cough.  
The doctor swallowed, playing with his hands. "He won't be able to speak, he's still unconscious and-,"  
"I have to see him, please,"  
There was so much raw emotion in the boy's eyes, which were brimming with tears, as he took slow deep breaths in an attempt to retain composure.  
"He's in Sheila Malcolm Ward, fourth door to your right," said the doctor, sighing, with a vague wave of his hand, in the direction of a long, sparsely decorated corridor. "I must ask you to inform the nurse at reception if any changes occur in my absence; I have a meeting to attend to. I hate to repeat myself, but Mr Styles _really_ needs all the rest he can get, his body is very weak and-,"  
Louis didn't need to be told twice. With a quick _thank you, doctor_, he rushed off down the corridor, head turning at every entrance, until he reached the fourth door.

Before he went inside, he took a few moments to reflect on the unexpected events of the past few hours. This was his fault: if he hadn't stormed out, if he had _stayed, _this wouldn't have happened. If he had stayed, Harry wouldn't have tried to fucking drown himself in alcohol. He was in love with Harry. He'd forgotten about that one, in the haste of getting Harry to the hospital. What would happen now?  
_Nothing._ _Harry didn't love him like he loved Harry, that he was sure of.  
_Louis couldn't help feeling sad beneath the worry; sad was an understatement, more like gut-wrenching heartache.  
Louis took a few deep breaths, fighting back tears, as he gripped the door handle, as though it was a lifeline.

Pushing the door open slowly, he peered in at the boy who was propped up in bed, supported by several cushions.  
The boy in question groaned at the sudden and unfamiliar sound of Louis shuffling over towards him, his Converse squeaking on the shiny floor.  
"Harry?" a familiar voice asked.  
_Louis. What was he doing here? This wasn't meant to happen, Louis wasn't meant to find him like this…_  
"Harry, look at me," the older boy demanded.  
Harry sighed, and with a painful heave of his chest, he opened his other eye, the light of the room overwhelming his sore eyes. Squinting, he turned to face Louis, who was now stood by the armchair beside the bed.  
"You can s-sit down, Lou," Harry croaked.  
Was he _serious? _After the stunt he had just pulled…  
"You're a fucking idiot, Haz, you know that?" Louis rolled his eyes. "You could've _died_, for fuck's sake! What were you thinking?!"  
_I wasn't thinking_, Harry thought.  
Seeing Louis so worked up was a rarity, but for some Harry's mouth turned up into a smile. "Love you too, Louis,"  
Louis turned away from him and began to pace, in an attempt to subtly mask the blush that had crept onto his face at the boy's words. He knew what Harry meant, but he couldn't help feeling warm inside, his heart pounding.  
He didn't turn around until he was sure he had regained a steady breathing pattern and the blush had disappeared, continuing to pace the floor, missing the huge grin that appeared on Harry's face, as he noticed the red of Louis' cheeks at his words.

"An idiot, Harry, that's what you are," Louis said simply.  
"And here's me expecting you to cry and embrace me with open arms and promise never to _abandon _me like that again," Harry chuckled, trying to keep his tone light-hearted, but he couldn't stop his voice from catching in his throat as he recalled the blurred and hazy memory of being left alone.  
Louis gasped.  
"Harry, I-"  
"Don't, Lou, it's fine," Harry sighed and plastered on a smile.  
Louis felt awful. He stood up from the armchair, pulling Harry into his arms, burying his face into the curly hair belonging to his best friend, and inhaling the scent, of Harry. Apple shampoo and a hint of the Chanel aftershave the boy always wore.  
Harry smiled and wrapped his arms around Louis' waist, pulling him onto the bed, where they lay, Harry resting against Louis' chest, soothed by the rise and fall of his chest and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Louis had one arm tightly around Harry's waist, the other was exploring Harry's hair, curly locks entangled around his fingers. Louis tightened his grip on Harry ever so slightly.  
"God, I'm so sorry, Harry,"  
Harry felt Louis' body shake, and lifted his head, to see his beautiful best friend, with a tear running down his cheek.  
"Don't be," he said simply, wiping the tear away, and snuggling closer to Louis.  
"Love you, Hazza," Louis muttered.  
"Love you, Lou,"

Unknown to each other, the words couldn't have been truer.


End file.
